


Dean Winchester doesn't whimper

by Smuternatural



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 20:06:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20364343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smuternatural/pseuds/Smuternatural





	Dean Winchester doesn't whimper

Dean Winchester didn't whimper.

Not once.

Ever.

Dean Winchester is a hunter. He's killed more things than God himself. He's a storm of white hot rage and blood. Vamp? Obviously. Ghoul? Sure. Things that he never dreamed existed? Yup.

Dean Winchester is a _man. _The manliest man to ever man. He can get any chick he wanted just by laying on the charm and flashing a smirk. He's not just a man, he's a good man. Drop anything for someone he loved. He's turned the Impala around in the middle of the road to get back to Sammy so many times it'll make your head spin. Defend his loved ones with his life kinda man. _Die _for his loved ones kinda man.

Dean Winchester is a loyal friend. To a fault. Jo, Benny, Crowley, Cas, Sam even. Some of them fucked up to many times to count but Dean was always waiting with open arms and a beer. It didn't matter what they did, all was forgiven after a heart-to-heart or a knock down, drag out fight. Words or fists, didn't matter. Dean always made everything ok.

So why, with his tough and calloused demeanor, did Dean fucking Winchester _whimper _when his best friend removed his trench coat and suit jacket?

Maybe it's because Cas was never usually in this state of undress. He's always stoic, calm, put together and fully fucking clothed.

And fuck, it happened again once Cas rolled his shirt sleeves up to his elbows.

Dean Winchester didn't squirm in his seat. He didn't ball his fists under the table and he CERTAINLY didn't gasp when said fist accidentally grazed his goddamn boner.

But damn it, Cas kept peeling off layer after layer. Both coats, rolled up sleeves, unbuttoning his shirt.

And the tie. The goddamn tie now hanging loosely around his neck. Dean Winchester didn't dream of being bound with it. He just _didn't, _ok?

Dean Winchester didn't think about Cas like that. That would be weird, right? Dreaming about those stupid fucking pouty lips on his own, that ridiculous hair wild from thick fingers tugging at it, and those goddamn thighs wrapped tight around his body. He just _DIDN'T._

So he took himself by surprise when he crossed the room like a bull in a China shop, swiping chairs out of the way and swatting the book out of Cas' hand.

He didn't whimper when he finally had his hands on the angel. He didn't whimper when said hands roamed the thick, broad chest in front of him. He didn't whimper when Cas said the hunters name like a question. He didn't whimper when he looked the angel in his stupidly perfect blue eyes. Or when he leaned in, breathing in the scent that only belonged to Castiel. Or when Cas licked his lips, or when he put this hands on Dean's body.

Dean Winchester groaned when his lips fucking finally landed on the angels. Gasp? Yep. Moan? Definitely. Sigh when they broke the kiss to come up for air? Sure.

Whimper? Absolutely.

* * *


End file.
